No One Can Hurt Him Anymore. Scott Cupp
He had at least a dozen pages of notes to follow up on, all of them indicating that Andrew Schwarz had been subjected to physical and emotional abuse for years—up to and including the day before his death.
Waites asked, “Was HRS ever involved?” HRS—Health and Rehabilitative Services—is Florida’s version of social services, and their handling of child abuse cases had been under intense scrutiny for almost a year.
Calloway replied, “They were regular visitors. The last time was when A.J. showed up at a neighbor’s house with a broken nose and two black eyes. Very suspicious.
“The story was that A.J. had cracked his face against the handlebars of his sister’s bike. This neighbor, an Eileen Callahan, doesn’t believe it. She thinks Jessica threatened the kid to get him to tell that story and to stick with it.
“I talked to him myself. If someone hit him, he wouldn’t say.”
Detective Waites requested that David and Jessica Schwarz, along with Jackie and Lauren, come to the sheriff’s office to be interviewed. Detective Calloway would conduct a joint investigation into the allegations of the abuse.
The investigation into his death—and life—would reveal that by no stretch of anyone’s imagination had A.J. Schwarz lived anything even close to a happy life—or even a normal one.
CHAPTER 2
Please, for the kids’ sakes, give them both to us and I promise we will comply with everything you want us to do. Give them a break, and David and myself a chance to prove we can make a difference and change their lives for the best.
—Jessica Schwarz
Andrew J. “A.J.” Schwarz was born to David Schwarz and his first wife, Ilene, on April 24, 1983. Ten years and eight days later he was dead.
When David met Ilene Spence in 1980, she already had a baby girl named Patsy. There was no father’s name listed on Patsy’s birth certificate, only the notation that he had “left before she was born.” Therefore, her last name was Spence—her mother’s maiden name. David and Ilene were married in 1982 and their son was born the following year.
According to David, Ilene kept the children—and the apartment—clean. But after she “kicked him out” and they were divorced in 1986, she “worked nights as a stripper, had many lovers, and abused drugs and alcohol.”
He saw A.J. and Patsy every weekend. Even though Patsy was not his own child, he loved her and did not want to separate the two children.
David lived alone for a short time until he met Jessica. A former truck driver, traveling from New York City to Miami, she had sold her truck and moved to Florida.
A.J. was three years old when he first visited with both Jessica and David. Jessica would later say that the children were “malnourished, dirty, and dressed poorly.” She also claimed that A.J. could not talk, was shy or frightened, that he would hide his face, and was totally inarticulate. She also said that he did not use tableware and acted like a sick animal.
David’s words were similar: The children were “kept poorly, dirty, thin, and ragged.” The children told him that Ilene’s lovers had beaten them.
In 1987, A.J. became ill and was hospitalized. HRS was called in because A.J. had bruises on his back and claimed he had been beaten “with a stick.”
Shortly after that, Ilene, along with the children, disappeared, and David did not see them again until November 1989, when he—by chance—met them on the street. They again disappeared and he did not see them until HRS called him in 1990.
At the initial HRS medical exam, A.J. was diagnosed as hyperactive. He also could not hear well, suffered from asthma, and his front teeth were rotten. He was a mess.
Jessica and David were given temporary custody of the children—although they remained under protective custody of the state. Both of them were sickly when they arrived and had lice and ringworm.
Jessica had sent a letter to HRS, which read in part:
Please, for the kids’ sakes, give them both to us and I promise we will comply with everything you want us to do. Give them a break, and David and myself a chance to prove we can make a difference and change their lives for the best.
Shortly before noon on Sunday, May 2, Michael Waites interviewed thirty-six-year old David Schwarz at the sheriff’s office. Still quite distraught, his voice echoed the genuine disbelief and shock that he was feeling:
Waites: I just need to—real quickly—go over what happened this morning. Start with dinnertime last night—how A.J. was acting up until he goes to bed. David: He was fine. He ate dinner with everybody else. No, he ate in his room. Uh, chicken—just like everybody else. Fine. Offered to do the dishes. So he did the dishes. Fine. Girls were in playin’ Nintendo. And, uh, he finished up the kitchen. Did some schoolwork in his room. ’Cause he hadn’t been to school—he hadn’t been feelin’ good. And around nine o’clock or so, he came in and said “good night.” Went to the bathroom and went to bed. I watched TV until about midnight. Checked on all the kids and I went to bed. This morning the wife said, “A.J.’s gone.” I said, “What?” The door was open. The garage door was locked. Front door was locked. She was looking in the backyard. I looked in the backyard. Saw him in the pool. I noticed the ladder was up on the pool.
Waites: Uh-huh.
David: Ladder was up. I said, “Oh, shit!” I looked in and there he was. Jumped in and carried him out. Arm was stiff. . . . I told the wife, “911.” Came in while she was on the phone and I said, “He’s stiff. I don’t think there’s any way they’re gonna revive him. Paramedics came. I covered him with a sheet. That’s the extent . . . Waites (after a slight pause): You were saying earlier that there had been some problems with the neighbors? David: From what my wife’s been sayin’ . . . I have, myself, no problems with the neighbors. I’m not there during the week. I work twelve, thirteen hours a day. I come home. I eat there and I’m in the house. Just from what the wife says . . . I mean . . . I don’t have any problems myself with any of the neighbors.
Waites: Have the neighbors ever called HRS or anything like that?
David: Someone has.
Waites: In the past?
David: Yeah. They don’t tell us who does it. I forget how many times, but it’s been cleared each time. Waites: Uh-huh. Okay.
David: With no problems.
Waites continued after a long silence: And when—either you or your wife—aren’t out by the pool . . . the ladder’s normally kept away from the pool, so that your kids or neighborhood kids don’t get into it?
David: Right. The ladder’s only put up when they’re going in to swim. That was our thought for safety—along with the fence. The ladder was kept on the ground against the house till we got this puppy and he likes to chew things. So we put it up on that table.
Waites: The door that was open that you talked about—that was his bedroom door?
David: Yes.
Waites: He normally sleeps with that closed?
David: Yeah. The kids do sleep with their doors closed, because I like to watch TV at night and Jessica gets up once in a while to get something to eat. And this way, they don’t get bothered. The dogs can’t go in their rooms. The dogs sleep with us in our room.
Waites: One of the neighbors told one of the detectives standing out there that they saw A.J. out walking the dog—after midnight last night. Is that any way possible? I mean, you just said the dogs sleep with you.
David: Yeah. The dogs weren’t out after midnight.
Waites: Okay. That’s just what one of them said as one of the detectives was walking to his car and it kind of struck me as odd because I can’t see—
David: What? We don’t walk the dogs.